It’s Never Too Late for People To Change

by Tekia R. Huger-Burton, LBSW

    I would like to think that I grew up in a decent, well-rounded family with all the love, care, and emotional support needed to thrive. I remember my mom always telling me that I could be anything I wanted to be, so long as I tried and always was the best at whatever I decided to do. Those notions resonated with me throughout life, in good and bad times.

     During my elementary years, I was constantly on the honor roll, tested for the mentally gifted class, made it through rounds of spelling bees, and even tested into the second best middle school, missing the #1 school by three points in math. Then, unfortunately, my father died when I was nine years old and starting middle school. My grandmother told me, “You changed. You became dark since your father’s death.” Although I had no clue of what she meant at the time, looking back, I can see the trends that began my spiral.

     I was a single teenage parent by age 15. I dropped out of school in the 10th grade, began experimenting with drugs, and hung out with all the wrong crowds. By 18, I was introduced to the criminal justice system (CJS). Life as I knew it seemed to be over, because having a criminal record—especially one with felony convictions—creates a lifelong stigma. The invisible bars of a criminal record close so many doors and restrict the access needed to survive.

     To add to my list of unfortunate obstacles, I lost my mother when I was 25 years old, and she had three teenaged children at that time. I raised my siblings along with my daughter. I dropped the ball at some point. At least that is how I felt. I started using harsher drugs that sent me through the CJS again like a revolving door. It wasn’t long before I knew that this was not the life that I wanted or the life that my family would have liked for me.

    I chose to fight at that point in my life, and I have been fighting ever since. I fought urges to use. I fought to take the tough road. I fought to clear my name. And more recently, I fought for the opportunity to take the social work licensure exam.

     Regardless of my fighting, I had a label that would keep me from getting jobs, even after receiving an offer. For instance, I was interviewed for the 2nd-3rd shift by a team of four people, and before I left, they decided to hire me on the spot. I was honest about my past. They sent me for urinalysis, which I passed, and they agreed that while they were still interviewing, they would start me on first shift as a lead-technician. To quote them, “You are exactly the type of person we want to engage with our clients.” I worked for nine hours before human resources informed me I could not keep the job.

     I also recall working for a call center when I lived in Johnstown, Pennsylvania. I liked my job, my quality assurance was 99%, and I would sometimes work 12-hour days. It was time for the spring semester, so I talked to my supervisor about taking time off to go back to school. He explained that I did not have enough time to request a leave, but I could put in two weeks’ notice, and he would hire me when I came back in May. He did rehire me without hesitation. I remember sitting through the week-long training reciting the closing script, because I never forgot it. That following Monday, the eighth workday, I was called into the office and told that they had to let me go because of my criminal history. I pleaded that nothing was new and said that my background was the same as the last time I worked there. He told me that the company had new owners, and it was out of his hands. I left with my head down, and I cried as I walked home.             

     The oppression did not stop there. I had a similar experience while pursuing my education in social work. I graduated Summa Cum Laude in the BSW program but was asked about my criminal history to attend the same school for the MSW program. I did not stay quiet about the question on the University’s graduate school application, and because of that, I now intern as a Research Assistant with the Clean Slate Initiative.

     Even though there have always been bumps, potholes, and sometimes sinkholes in my path, I never gave up heading toward the direction of betterment. Many ways can lead to the desired destination, and I am a testament to that. With the assistance of co-workers, clinical supervisors, and professors who helped me strengthen my voice and platform along the way, my goals appear in closer range now. While the community didn’t volunteer to rebuild as they do with a tornado’s aftermath, I found that I had to accumulate my network of support. I kept in touch with those in positions where I aspire to be. I must emphasize the hard work and self-navigation that I was doing already. I was determined to make it, regardless, but they decided to become my allies and support me when people saw that in me.

     I also returned the favor by inspiring those coming behind me. I have worked with people who use drugs for close to 10 years now, and my new goal is to teach future social work students while opening my own recovery house for women with older children. Through my years of work, I met and connected with people who saw the best in me, supported my growth, and empowered me as I navigated my new way of life.

     Some advocated on my behalf and used their position and status to assist me in my endeavors. They took the time to help me realize my worth and helped me understand my full potential. These people did not walk in my shoes, but they cared enough about my situation to help me do something about it. When you make connections like that, you hold on to them, and in paying it forward, I will be an ally and advocate for others.

     Then, some saw me as an undeserving ex-con. They did not care to allow me to be an asset to their organization, and for years, that very concept made it feel like I lived in a world with invisible bars. Despite being “free” from the prison cell, there were so many things just out of my grasp that made me feel like I was still in prison. 

     I intended to give a message today. That message is that we all have a past. It may help us figure out a better future, but it should never get in the way of evident progress. If you feel hindered or a barrier or unforeseen force pushes against you, I urge you not to give up. Instead, fight a good fight and accumulate some allies along the way. You will never know how far you can go if you give in to the status quo. It is never too late to become an ally, to help someone else reach their destination.

     Equally important is my message to those who keep us down or hold us back from reaching our full potential. It’s not too late for you, either. Just as people with a criminal record deserve a second chance, so do the people who are not willing to allow us to become better people. Again, it’s not too late for you to become an ally. 

     This story is not only my story. It is the story of too many people who made mistakes. I relentlessly fought for myself so that perhaps they would have to fight a little less.

Tekia R. Huger-Burton, LBSW, is a dedicated lifelong learner. She is an advanced standing MSW student at West Chester University. She has a passion for helping people transition from hard to safe times.